


Out of the Rain

by reedyas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Blackwater AU, F/M, Gen, Old West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reedyas/pseuds/reedyas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few nights after Sansa and Sandor fled the Keep. Old West!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Sansa has been aged up to 17. Just a short thingy I wrote because there's something cool about cowboys in the desert, right?
> 
> Oh yeah, and I don't know a whole lot about constellations. Oops!

Sweat dripped down Sansa’s back as the sun arched from East to West. New Mexico was different from Texas, with its red mountains and littered vegetation scattered across the light brown dirt. Her braid clung to the back of her neck even as the sky turned from blue to pink to navy.

Her scarred companion – er, rescuer – rode in front, his giant black stallion leading the pair across the desert. She didn’t know how he was comfortable in his dark jeans, black shirt, and a vest made of dark leather. Two revolvers hung from the holsters around his waist. Sansa had already abandoned her corset and was close to doing the same with her petticoat. She wondered what her mother would think of her. She wondered if she would be disappointed. But there was no time to think about that. If she did ditch her petticoat that would only leave her in a chemise, breeches, and her warm and modest woolen dress. And her cloak, of course.

“We’ll stop here for the night,” Sandor Clegane grumbled, bringing his horse Stranger to a halt. “We should come across a town tomorrow. Good thing too, we’re going to need more water.” He tossed her the last canteen, the corner of his ruined mouth twitching. “Don’t drink too much, it would do no good if we both died of dehydration. They’d find out bodies cooked and feasted upon by vultures.” He snorted, climbing off his mount and then helping her off of her nameless pony.

“Do you always have to be so crude?” she asked, gulping down the cool liquid.

“Betraying the most powerful family in the country, and she still fucking worries about language,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

They didn’t make a fire that night. Sandor said the land was too flat, they could be spotted from miles away. After forcing down some tough jerky and cheese, Sansa bundled up her petticoat, placing it under head and laid down on the cold, hard ground. The moonlight illuminated the cacti and the mountainsides in the distance.

“That’s the Big Dipper.” She pointed, breaking the long silence.

“There’s Draco,” he grumbled, sitting on the ground and leaning against a rock.

“And Leo.”

“And Orion.”

Sansa remembered looking up at the constellations at the Keep and her childhood residence in Maine. It was comforting finding the same stars and points. Maybe home wasn’t too far away after all. “Where are we going, Sandor?”

“Reno. Sparks. Somewhere small enough until this rebellion is over.”

“Reno? Isn’t that close to San Francisco and Sacramento? The Lannisters could find us in a matter of days!”

“They think we’re heading northeast. They’re not smart enough to remember to check under their noses.”

“But what about my brother? And my mother?”

“Do you want to be surrounded by more war, Little Bird? Do you think everything will return to normal as soon as you’re with your family again? You don’t think the Lannisters will try and recapture you?”

“I want to go home.”

“We’ll make it there. Eventually.”

Sansa huffed and crossed her arms. Maybe she should have stayed in Texas – no. She couldn’t think that way. She knew she never wanted to play the Lannister game.  
She shivered and rolled onto her side, facing the intimidating and somewhat unfamiliar man. He was staring at her, chewing a wad of tobacco, occasionally spitting it onto the ground. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what?” he grumbled, breaking eye contact and looking down.

“For not being like them.”

He growled and shrugged his shoulders. “They still beat you. I didn’t do anything to stop it. I’m not your fucking knight in shining armor.”

“I know. But you didn’t.” she sighed and blinked her eyes slowly. 

The coyote howls and chirping crickets lulled her to sleep. Sometime in the night, she felt a warm presence leaning against her upper shoulder blades, a constant reminder that he was still there. 

Oddly enough, she felt quite content with the threat of the harsh desert sprawled in front of her and a rogue outlaw at her back.


End file.
